"Do you think we did better this time around?"
Surrounded by a sea of dead demonic cultists, the Plum Blossom Sword Saint, Yoo Moyun, decided to ask the person resting in his arms that rather simple question while ignoring the fatal wound eating away at his life.
Baek Seolhwa, the master of the northern Ice Palace, possessing equally, if not more, grievous wounds, answered after a beat of silence.
"We definitely lived longer this time... but I wouldn't say it was a perfect life... Well, at least for me it wasn't."
An intrigued smile spread across Moyun's face.
"And why might that be? We were certainly more successful than last time."
Seolhwa's eyes lingered on Moyun's face, on his smile, for a while before she coughed lightly, expelling the blood coagulating in her throat.
"... There was something that I never got to do in either of my lives. Something that I now regret pushing off for so long."
Seolhwa trailed off a bit as more blood began to fill her throat.
"*Cough*... What about you...?"
Moyun chuckled softly.
"I guess I resemble you in that regard. Now that we're both about to die again, the only thing I wish I had was more time."
Seolhwa raised an eyebrow.
"Hah~? Just moments ago, you were saying that you could die without regrets... that you wouldn't be able to rest peacefully with those demon bastards still living... was that merely lip service...?"
There was a brief pause as the smile on Moyun's face shifted slightly- a hint of wry sorrow being present on the otherwise happy arc.
"Yes and no. I wasn't lying about being unafraid of death... But I still definitely have unresolved regrets."
Seolhwa's expression contorted with confusion.
"But... You had so many chances to escape before.... Why didn't you just leave me here? It was a doomed operation from the start..."
At this, Moyun burst out in hysterical laughter, startling Seolhwa, who was still resting in his arms.
A few more precious moments passed before the sudden wave of laughter subsided, and he gently tapped Seolhwa's forehead with his knuckle.
"So smart yet so dumb. If you were to just use this brain a bit more, I wouldn't have had to pass with so many regrets."
Moyun smiled fondly at her, silently engraving her visage in his mind.
Seolhwa met his gaze and did the same, imprinting the scene of their final moments into her fading consciousness.
"Hey... How... How much time do you have left?"
With her strength now fading, her words were so quiet that they were nearly drowned out by the hum of the wind.
Moyun glanced at the sword embedded in his stomach.
"Probably a while."
"Idiot... give me an actual answer..."
"... Less than a minute."
Seolhwa let out a weak chuckle.
"Thought so."
Moyun remained silent for a second, the smile slowly drooping from his face.
"And you?"
"Dunno. A little more than thirty seconds...?"
Moyun's grip on Seolhwa's body tightened, but neither seemed to notice or care.
Not wanting to waste the little time she had left, Seolhwa smiled and posed the question that had been on her mind since she had been ambushed by the forces of the Demonic cult.
"Do you... Do you think that we'll get another chance...?"
Moyun didn't say anything.
Seolhwa continued.
"... I don't want to bet on another miracle... but, if we do get one, another chance.... I want you to promise me something."
"... What is it?"
Seolhwa used the last of her strength to lift her arm, gently resting her pale, cold hand on Moyun's cheek.
"I want you to promise that... You'll listen to what I say... That you'll give me the chance to say something when we meet in the next life..."
Moyun cupped the hand resting on his cheek, savoring the frigid touch as he nodded slowly.
"I... promise."
The smile on Seolhwa's face brightened as the last of her life energy left her body.
"Good... I'll hold you to it... then."
And with that, Baek Seolhwa, the master of the Northern Ice Palace, breathed her last breath.
"..."
For a few moments, Moyun stared at Seolhwa's unmoving corpse as a small sorrow-filled smile spread across his lips.
He had actually lied to Seolhwa moments ago.
Truthfully, he was not like her- he wasn't actually someone condemned to death.
The Martial Arts of Mount Hua were naturally attuned to nature and the universe, and as a Taoist possessing Chi that had the ability to 'blossom', Moyun was far more resistant to death than any ordinary man.
Not to mention... Moyun was known as the Plum Blossom Sword Saint, a swordsman who had walked the path of Mount Hua further than any other had before.
His Chi was not only incomparably vast, but also unbelievably pure, allowing him to postpone his death for the duration of an ordinary lifetime.
But.
Moyun had no intention of doing that.
He had a much different plan for the last dregs of Chi resting in his dantian.
Moyun laid Seolhwa's body to rest after moving some of the corpses, creating a small circular area in a sea of dead demons.
After that, Moyun drew in a deep breath and tugged the sword stuck in his stomach free, grasping the blade with his dominant hand and assuming a stance.
Blood freely flowed from the entrance of his gaping wound, but the Plum Blossom Sword Saint's focus did not waver.
Moyun began to draw upon his chi, letting it flow without control, allowing it to fill his body, his sword, and the area around him.
If any of the Demon Cultists were still alive, they would've witnessed the coming of an early spring, with hundreds upon thousands of flowers blooming around this battlefield reeking of death.
This vivid sea of crimson blossoms was different from the ones usually created by the Plum Blossom Sword Saint- because these flowers were no mere projections created by his internal energy- they were real flowers, real blossoms created by mixing his remaining life force with his chi.
Life filled this arena of despair, erasing the dead bodies of the cultists and turning the sprawling plateau before Moyun into a monument-
A monument for the woman who had accompanied him across two lifetimes.
Even still, Yoo Moyun had more work to do.
He wasn't one to believe in miracles- much less repeated ones.
Moyun had no intention of dying thinking that he would wake up immediately afterwards in a new body and in a new world.
So, he would commit his final act with the finality of death embedded in his heart, and he would imbue all the passion and emotions that he had felt in his 2 lifetimes to create a memorial that would last for 4.
It is said that on the precipice of death, when life is no longer a shackle binding your potential, you become capable of things beyond your imagination, and for the first time, as Moyun teetered on that inescapable edge, he truly felt free.
For once, the presence of people, the weight of responsibility, the obligation to chase his ambitions- all of it disappeared behind the boundary of death, allowing him to experience a moment where all that was truly present were himself, his sword, and his memories.
Mount Hua's martial art is one that relies on continuous use, one that only grows stronger with each additional movement, and as the strongest swordsman of Mount Hua, Moyun knew this better than anyone.
Just as there is no single moment that defines someone's being, there was no single action Moyun could make that could fully encapsulate what he was-
And thus, Moyun's body began to sway slowly, not out of weakness, but because he had started to waltz with the sword in his hand.
As he took his first step, the tip of his blade naturally followed.
Moyun's first slash was incredibly steady, creating a glittering blue line that contained within it memories of his early childhood, memories of the years that had forged the most fundamental parts of his personality.
These were the most irrefutable parts of his being- moments so undeniably important that they firmly rooted his identity in place.
Moyun's first slash formed a set of unshakable roots.
Taking another step, Moyun swung his sword again, this time tracing a thick pillar of light on top of the roots that he had created.
This next strike was filled with his memories of hardship, of all the challenges Moyun had overcome throughout his lives.
If his first strike had created the base, then his second strike had built upon it, reinforcing his identity while adding complexity and humanity.
Moyun's second slash had formed a towering yet irregularly shaped trunk.
Drawing in a deep breath, Moyun took his third step and firmly planted himself in place, cradling his blade in his palm as he released a whirlwind of cuts.
Glittering blue lines branched off from the trunk, each one containing a scene that gave Moyun strength-
Watching fireworks under a canopy of trees during New Year's with somebody precious.
Running hand and hand with that very same precious person during the Summer Festival.
Seeing their reaction to the Christmas gift he had spent two entire months working his ass off to buy.
All of the memories that gave Moyun's life its beautiful luster filled the last movements of his sword.
.....
Moyun exhaled heavily, noticing that the edges of his vision were beginning to fade as he concluded his short dance.
The sword in his grasp clattered to the ground as Moyun dragged his body over to Seolhwa's resting place in spite of his exhaustion.
He gently picked her up and propped her up against the culmination of his two lifetimes, letting her head rest against the irregularly shaped trunk of his memorial.
He crouched down next to her and adjusted her posture carefully, trying his best to make her look comfortable in her final moments.
By the time he finished, Moyun had already fully lost vision in one of his eyes- but he didn't really seem to mind.
After all, the beautiful vibrancy of his creation would not be diminished by a mere loss of vision.
He smiled as the petals of his towering plum blossom tree drifted down to his shoulders.
"At least this time, I gave us a proper resting place."
Moyuun chuckled as he plopped down next to Seolhwa's body, sitting in a similar position to the one he had just put her in.
"Definitely beats getting cremated and shoved in a jar."
He had exhausted so much of his life energy creating this eternal field of flowers that he could barely talk, but still, he managed.
With his hands slowly losing their feeling, he grasped Seolhwa's hand and cradled it in his own.
"You know... When I made that promise to you a little while ago, I made it knowing full well that I probably wouldn't be able to keep it."
Moyun giggled to himself weakly.
"I know, I know. You can call me a liar if you want, but if you couldn't already tell, I've always been a bit of a coward."
It felt a bit strange coming out of the mouth of one of the greatest martial artists of all time, but there was no one listening.
"Quite frankly, I was terrified- terrified of gambling on a miracle for the third time and even more terrified of actually winning the gamble and living once more."
Moyun drew in a deep breath.
"I don't know if I still have the courage to face you anymore- to look you in the eye knowing that I've been lying to you and to myself for over two lifetimes."
A self-depricating smile spread across Moyun's face as his body began to sway, an indication that the last of his strength was beginning to disappear.
Moyun's head landed on Seolhwa's shoulder, and as the last dregs of consciousness began to fade from his body, he uttered his last words in the ear of her unhearing corpse.
"Forgive me... I know it's selfish, but I think I'm content just staying like this forever- staring at this beautiful sight as I rest in your arms for the rest of eternity."
"I'm sorry."
______________________________________________
(A/N:
Tell me what you guys think ykyk~
I know this is a bit wacky of a premise for a Naruto fic, but I highkey noticed that there was a disturbing lack of good romance in both Naruto Fics and Murim novels, so as a bit of a middle finger to both, I decided to try my hand at one that focuses more on romance- and since I'm a bit dramatic, I also made the scenario as ridiculous as I could.
Overall, I wanna focus a bit more on the martial arts aspect of the Murim and how it'll fare in the world of Ninjas (Just a heads up: Naruto verse Highkey gets raped by most of the cultivation/martial arts novels I normally read, so my personal power scaling is a bit wack and might be unrealistic by your standards, but I'll try my best to adjust based on the comments).
Aside from a single thing from Boruto, I will NOT be addressing any of the stuff that comes up there- so things like the Jougan, Jigen, Karma Seals, and all the space alien fuckery aren't gonna be in this.
The fic's timeline is gonna be set a few years before the 3rd war, but just know, if I make a mistake and an event is out of order, you can leave a comment and I'll try my best to fix it.
As for the upload schedule...
Ima be upfront- it'll depend on how much I enjoy writing this fic.
Truthfully, I'm still pretty busy with a bunch of stuff, but since I'm done with the JO grind, I have a bit more free time on my hands- it's just that I don't exactly know how much of that free time I'm willing to spend on writing fan fics.
I don't really wanna use AI because I just hate the way it writes things (no hate if you do use it), and I'd honestly rather just take a few extra days to write a chapter that is up to my level of standards than resort to using an AI.
I'll probably test the waters with an upload schedule of around 2 chapters a week- and if I really enjoy writing, I might bump it up to three- but just know, due to the nature of my personal life, my upload schedule can get a bit erratic.
Also, if this fic manages to survive till the summer, I can probably manage a chapter a day while I'm on break.
Anyway, thanks for reading my lengthy rant and for reading the chapter, and hopefully you'll read my future updates.
Thanks!)